Down We Fell
by Petroica traversi
Summary: Stan was shaking, though he wasn't sure if it was from the pain or his fury. They didn't understand anything. Kyle wasn't just some easy lay. Pirate AU one-shot.


It was a calm, moonless night when they were caught together. The crew had suspected for some time that there was something going on between the ship's carpenter and navigator, but that was all just a rumor. No one had ever seen any evidence of it, aside from the fact that the two men were excessively friendly with each other.

Since there wasn't so much as a breeze that evening, Stan had snuck onto the upper deck, where he knew Kyle would be. The navigator couldn't exactly navigate the ship if there was no wind, so Stan had no qualms about sneaking a little personal time in. They'd been mid-kiss when a deck hand named Craig spotted them, and without letting them known they'd been seen, went back below the deck to gather the other sailors.

One moment they'd been kissing sweetly, with Stan's hand not-so-sweetly down the front of Kyle's pants, and the next they were being torn apart, thrown to the deck, and beaten within an inch of their lives.

Stan could hear Kyle yelping in pain only a few feet away from him, but try as he night, he couldn't get any closer. Especially not when he was being repeatedly punched in the head. He spat out blood as the crowd finally moved away, and Craig stepped forward.

"Now you listen here," he said, "that sort of thing has no place on this ship. That sort of depravity is disgusting, and if we catch you two even _looking _at each other again, we'll tell Captain Cartman, and let him deal with you. Understand?"

Stan nodded, though even then he had no intention whatsoever of staying away from Kyle.

"If you're that desperate you can do what the rest of us do; jerk off, or wait until we get to land and you can find a nice whore to fuck."

And with one last kick to Stan's ribs, he left, taking his cronies with him. Stan was shaking, though he wasn't sure if it was from the pain or his fury. They didn't understand anything. Kyle wasn't just some easy lay. He loved him, and hoped Kyle loved him too, but even if he didn't there had always been a deep connection between the two men that Stan had never felt with anyone else. They were soul mates, of that he was certain.

He crawled over to where Kyle was laying unconscious on the deck, and gently pulled him up to lay against his chest. He stirred weakly, but when he didn't awaken Stan just sat there, stroking his hair and trying not to cry.

"They won't take you away from me," he whispered, knowing it would never be as simple as that.

When Kyle finally awoke, Stan carried him gently down to his quarters, washed his wounds, and kissed him goodnight.

"Please stay with me," he said softly, but Stan shook his head.

"They'll kill us, Kyle. You know I want to stay, but I can't put you at risk like that. Get some rest."

The quiet sounds of Kyle crying as he left the room was like a stab right to his heart.

He went to his own bunk, and passed out from the pain.

As soon as he appeared on the deck the next morning, he was seized by several deck hands, and tied by the wrists to some of the ship's rigging.

"What's this I hear about you picking a fight with my navigator?" asked Captain Cartman, swaggering up behind Stan with a whip in hand.

"What are you talking about?" Stan asked.

"Kyle isn't able to get out of bed today, and Craig told me it was you who beat him up. I see he got some good hits in himself, but the ship isn't going to get far without his skills, so you must be punished."

"I didn't... I wouldn't beat Kyle up!"

"Well who did, then?" the Captain asked, reaching up to rip open the back of Stan's shirt.

Stan glanced around wildly, and his eyes fell upon Craig, who was looking at him challengingly. He realized that accepting blame for Kyle's injuries was the only way to guarantee his and Kyle's secret would be safe.

"I... yeah, ok. It was my fault," he said, his stomach clenching in fear.

"That's what I thought," said the Captain, raising the whip.

Half an hour later, and Stan's back was in tatters as he was thrown into the brig. He'd lost count of the lashes after the 20th one, and he'd passed out shortly after that. He awoke in a puddle of grime and blood. He'd never been in the brig before, and it was simultaneously better and worse than he'd imagined. Sure, it was filthy, and he wondered if anyone would ever bring him food. He wished he had some way of tending to his back, because the offal coating the walls and floor were very likely to give him an infection. But it was quiet, and solitude was something he rarely got to enjoy upon the ship. The only thing he could hear was the distant sounds of the men on deck, and the soft sound of water splashing against the ship's hull.

He was brought hard tack once a day by Craig or one of his lackeys. They'd taunt him with information about Kyle, and chuck the food at him before heading back to the deck, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more. On the third day he was brought back to the deck, his eyes burning from the light, and his wounds seeping with infection.

"Did you learn your lesson?" the Captain asked.

"Yes, sir," he responded, his head bowed in submission.

"And there won't be any trouble in the future?"

"No, sir."

"Just remember, we can easily pick up a new carpenter if you can't behave yourself."

"Yes, sir," he said, taking his leave.

They forced him back to work immediately, and he did it with no complaint, even though he could barely stand. It was rather motivating to have Craig constantly at his elbow, reminding him what would happen to Kyle if he protested.

He could only catch glimpses of Kyle on the upper deck, where he was studying the maps. He didn't seem well, either, but it heartened Stan to see him up and about. He knew that accepting his punishment from the Captain was what kept Kyle out of danger, so he accepted that tradeoff gladly, even though he was sore and hungry.

They made it into port that evening, and while the other men went on a search for the rowdiest bars and cheapest whores, he followed Kyle through the town, and into a barn near the forest. He must have known he was being followed, because the second Stan walked into the barn, Kyle was all over him. It made glad to see that though his body was bruised, his treatment at the hands of the crew had done nothing to dampen his spirits.

"I'm sorry," he said, planting kisses along Stan's jaw, "I'm so sorry."

"What are you sorry for? I'm the one who got you into this mess."

Kyle pulled back and grasped Stan's hands, pulling him to a nearby pile of logs.

"They lashed you, Stan! You poor thing, it must hurt so badly," he answered, running his hand gently across Stan's spine.

"That's nothing, really. I'm worried about you."

"Why?"

"Because your life is in danger now, Kyle! And it's all because of me, because I couldn't keep my damn hands to myself."

Kyle laughed, and gingerly pulled himself over to straddle Stan's lap.

"And here I thought it was the other way around," he said, leaning down to kiss Stan hungrily.

They made love that night on loose piles of hay (and Kyle spent the rest of the evening complaining about straw getting stuck in his hair), and made their way back to the ship before sunrise.

They thought they'd gotten away with it. Everyone seemed too distracted by rum, gambling, and whores that it seemed implausible that anyone would notice they were missing. But they'd underestimated the determination of some of the crew members, and two days later, hundreds of miles offshore, they were jumped, hogtied, and brought before the Captain.

"Well now," he said, "I've been hearing some interesting rumors about you two."

"What might those be?" Kyle said defiantly, though his face was being pressed against the deck.

"That you two are playing hide-the-sausage behind my back."

"Oh, Jesus," Stan said, disgusted by the euphemism.

"Yes, Jesus indeed! You two are sinners of the worst kind! Kyle, I knew you were a filthy daywalker Jew, but I expected more of you, Stan. So, I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself, Stan. Repent and ye shall be saved, or whatever."

"What about Kyle?"

"Fuck Kyle. You can have a second chance because you're not a Jew, but his ass is getting thrown overboard."

"What?!" Kyle shouted, his face still pressed against the deck.

"You can't do that!" Stan shouted, "That's – What kind of person are you that you'd kill a man because of who they love?"

"Psshht, that's not love, Stan. I see he's got you hypnotized with his daywalker ways. If you're not willing to repent then you'll go overboard, too."

"Fine! I'll die with Kyle, if that's my only option!"

"Stan, don't do this!" Kyle cried as his feet were untied and the crew pulled him to stand on the deck.

"I don't want to live without you, Kyle," Stan replied, as he watched them bring out the plank and set it in place, "I couldn't go on knowing you were down there under the water without me."

"Jesus Christ," Craig said as he pushed Stan toward the plank, "Melodramatic much?"

"Fuck you, Craig," Stan replied, trying to get his hands free. Craig simply flipped him off in response.

He turned back to look at Kyle one last time as he was shoved toward the end of the plank.

"I love you, Kyle."

"I love you too, Stan."

The sound of the crew jeering at him was the last thing he heard before he hit the water.

"_Stan!"_

"What?" Stan asked, irritated at being interrupted.

"This is ridiculous."

"What do you mean?"

"Your story. It's bad," said Kyle, sitting up straighter in the bed.

"What, come on!"

"Well, I mean, first of all, it's just a rip off of that Gay Pirates song."

"No it isn't."

"Yeah, it is."

"Ok, fine," Stan admitted, "But don't you think that's romantic? Dying together rather than being separated?"

"No, honey, I do not think being thrown overboard on a pirate ship is romantic. And what's the deal with all the Craig-bashing? I mean, Cartman I get, but Craig?"

"Well, it always seems like that guy is out to get me. You don't see that?"

"Not really. I just kind of ignore Craig, to be honest. He's like a background character in my life, not some stupid half-assed villain."

"Well, that's just because he's not, like, your arch enemy."

"Arch enemy, Stan? Really. Also? That's the most inaccurate pirate story I think I've ever heard."

"Oh, come on!"

"No, seriously Stan. It's full of clichés and ridiculous inaccuracies. Walking the plank? Come on."

"What, like, I'm supposed to do research just to tell a simple story?"

"No, sweetheart, I just expect better from you than this misinformed, emotionally exploitive garbage."

Stan huffed, irritated by the bad reception of his story. Maybe someday he'd think of a better story to tell. In the meantime, he rolled over in bed and pulled the blankets over his head, ignoring Kyle's attempts to get him into a more amorous mood. "_Emotionally exploitive crap my ass_," he thought.


End file.
